Morty gave him a hopeful smile, and Toby tugged at the blanket to reveal the predicament in his sleep pants.“Don’t go blamin’ me if I traumatize you.”His body hadn’t quit humming with arousal, not since he’d sniffed his hoodie.
Morty blinked repeatedly before shifting his attention up.“That’s… impressive.”
“Yes, well, you don’t need to go on about it.It happened after I smelled my hoodie.”
“Oh my gosh!It’s the dude who saved you and brought you to the hospital, isn’t it!”He looked at Niall for confirmation.
He grinned and nodded.“See, you get it too.”Niall glanced back at Toby.“We just need to persuade Toby.”
See!I’m not the only one who knows you're daft.
Was he being daft?Wasn’t he just being cautious?Protecting himself from heartbreak?What his bird side said gave Toby a bigger concern.Why hadn’t his mate’s animal side come to hunt him down?
How could he do that when it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack?No, we need to fly to him.I know the way!
Toby eyed his friends, releasing a shuddery breath.“My bird wants me to shift and go find him.Except what if he thinks I’ve rejected him?Then what?And I can’t do it today, the doctor was clear I have to wait until my human side is fully healed.I’ll have to wait until after the café shuts tom—”
“You aren’t working tomorrow,” Niall said with force.
“We’ve got the café covered for tomorrow,” Morty replied at the same time as Niall.
They giggled at each other.
“We got you covered.”Morty tapped his leg.
See, all fixed.We’re going in the morning, even if I have to drag your self-doubting ass.
The flicker of hope he’d kept from catching light, flared with life as he slowly nodded, the giddy feeling nothing to do with his concussion and everything to do with going to find his mate.“Okay… I’m doing this!”
Chapter Ten
Ernest
By Monday morning, Ernest was very determined about one point.He wasn’t using the damn phone to contact the Bucket List Buddies organization.Nope, he was going there in person.
He had spent the best part of Sunday working in the fields and fielding numerous calls.The police wanted more clarification about damages, a journalist from a local paper wanted a statement, and even damn Pierre, who’d apparently been let out on bail and apparently decided his best form of defense was using every sleazy persuasive technique he could think of to get Ernest to drop the charges against him.The general consensus, from the paper and Pierre at least, was why was he making such a fuss over a simple hot air balloon landing in his paddock?
Ernest had plenty to be upset about, and now that he had a purpose, he was knuckling down on the details.Point one—Pierre had knowingly breached his trespass notice.Ernest got confirmation from the police that the notice had been delivered into Pierre’s hand at 11.34 a.m.on the previous Friday.So that was one strike against Pierre he could not ignore.
As for the local paper, Ernest didn’t give a shit.He didn’t need promotion for his flower business.Most of his blooms were exported.That was why they were worth so much money.So, he didn’t need to deal with a journalist dredging up a story that didn’t need publicity.He gave a terse comment about how people should respect the law, no matter what they were doing.
Of course, that wasn’t enough for the ambitious journalist, who tried to claim the balloon landing was a bit of harmless fun.Ernest reminded him that maybe the young man should do his research before he published any article and pointed out that Pierre—the criminal of the piece—was simply using the newspaper as a form of free publicity for his balloon business that would probably be closed down.After having given enough hints for the journalist to realize that maybe the article wasn’t a good idea, Ernest shoved his phone back in his pocket and went on with the back-breaking work of planting seeds.
Rick’s company had been a lifesaver.The man said little.He didn’t have to.But every now and again, he’d come up with some humorous tidbits, all designed to pull Ernest out of his perpetual funk and worry.It was appreciated.Ernest knew he wasn’t fun to be around—all he could think about was Toby.Was he all right?Had he healed okay?Where was he?
It was now Monday morning, and Ernest was up before the sun, showered, hair trimmed, dressed in respectable clothing.By the time he’d finished his breakfast, he was ready to head into town.
Unfortunately, it was only 7 o’clock.Bucket List Buddies, according to the website, didn’t open until nine.Ernest resorted to pacing from the bedroom to the living room, around the kitchen, and back again.He knew he was going to have to shift soon.It wasn’t something he liked to do around his paddocks, particularly when he had seedlings in, but his elephant had needs he couldn’t ignore.
There was a diversion of sorts when the courier arrived just before eight with the ground cover sheets that Ernest didn’t think were coming for a couple of weeks.That was a blessing.He and Rick got most of the paddocks covered in a fairly short time.By the time Ernest went back into his house, it was 9:30.He was sweaty, his good clothes were covered in dust, and goodness knows what was in the packaging of those cover sheets, but it stuck to his shirt like shit.His plants were protected against heavy rain or frost, so there was that.
Another shower and change of clothes later, Ernest was finally ready to get his ass into town.The drive wasn’t far.That was one of the good things about where they lived.The roads were good, the town itself was well laid out, and Ernest didn’t have any issues finding the small, brightly painted office that proudly proclaimed it was the home of Bucket List Buddies.Finding a parking spot was easy too—things are finally going my way,he thought as he got out and locked his car.
On the pavement, Ernest took a moment to center himself before he straightened his shoulders and let himself into the small office.It was bright and colorful, with a couple of big chairs and a two-seater couch arranged around a desk.The room was clearly designed to be a welcoming space.A young man with a mop of hair that reminded Ernest of Toby looked up as he came in.The nameplate with the one word, “Remy” let Ernest know he was in the right place.
“Hello.Remy?”Ernest thought it was a good idea to check.The desk might not belong to the man sitting there.“My name is Ernest.I’m the owner of the flower farm where the hot air balloon had a disastrous landing on Saturday morning.”
“Oh my goodness, yes.So nice to meet you.”Remy jumped up, pointing to a seat.“Can I get you a coffee?I am so sorry about what happened.Is there anything the Bucket List Buddies organization can do to help recoup any of the losses to your farm?That was such a particularly devastating thing to happen, and I am gutted that I wasn’t actually there myself.”
